


Always

by beeswaxing



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeswaxing/pseuds/beeswaxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And I’ll be there, forever, and a day… Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a fan account of what appears to have happened during SM Town in Jakarta. Basically, Yunho and Changmin were allocated separate rooms, but one room was totally untouched, and the other was very thoroughly used ;-)

Changmin is woken by a quiet moan. He shifts, groaning himself as his long body protests at having been curled in an awkward position for the better part of an hour. He rubs his eyes, dislodging the expensive pair of sunglasses he is using to block out the world.

Too bad his sunnies don’t block out sound.

The pitiful whimper comes again, and he turns to look at the man asleep next to him.

His face changes immediately, rearranging from mild annoyance to worry. 

He slips a hand under the blanket covering the larger man, and the heat emanating from the man’s body, even through the layers of clothes, makes him want to rip the blanket off and turn up the airconditioner at full blast or something. 

But he doesn’t do that. 

Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he cannot.

Instead he presses a hand against the other man’s abdomen and he rubs. 

“Changminnie?” his name is whispered hoarsely from parched lips. 

“Hyung.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No,” Changmin glances around, hand continuing to rub gently. “Do you need the bathroom?”

“Water.”

Changmin doesn’t hesitate, pulling his hand away to hit the call button. He ignores the unhappy whine of protest, schooling his features for the simpering flight attendant. 

In two minutes, he has a bottle of Perrier and a very sulky Yunho.

“I wanted water not sparkling water.”

“The bubbles will help.”

“I don’t want bubbles.”

“Don’t be a pain. Just drink it.”

“I’m the sick one,” Yunho tries to sound pitiful but all he gets is a huff for his troubles.

“Yes, you’ve got the man version of some tummy bug which means you’re about a hundred times more annoying than a female with the same tummy bug. Just drink the damn thing before I pour it all over your stubborn head,” Changmin mutters under his breath, through gritted teeth as he smiles across the aisle at one of the Super Junior members who’d turned around to look curiously at them.

Yunho takes the bottle and empty glass, pouring out the drink as grumpily as he can because he really is feeling rather put upon on top of his illness. He hates drinking bubbles and he knows Changmin knows it. “I thought you were only like this at home. When did we get married? How did I end up with a naggy wife? How do I get rid of you?” 

“Do you really want to get rid of me?” comes the quiet reply.

Yunho doesn’t answer, swallowing down his drink without another sound of complaint.

—

“What do you mean we’re in separate rooms?”

“The rooms were cheap so management thought to give you two separate rooms. You’re still next to each other, but there’s no connecting door so you both have your privacy. Yunho seemed happy with it. He’s already in his room.”

“Of course he is,” Changmin mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the singer answers quickly. “Can I get the keycard for his room?”

The manager’s eyes narrow, looking at the tall man curiously. “What for?”

Changmin doesn’t miss a beat as he answers, “You know how hyung is. He’d probably lock himself out of his own room when he puts the room service tray out the door and it shuts behind him. It’s happened before.”

He hesitates for a second, but the younger man speaks the plain truth. Yunho might be smart, but he is hopelessly forgetful. Changmin has the keys to Yunho’s cars, his lockers, his mailbox, even the key to his parents’ home _just in case_. That bag the maknae lugs around is a veritable shop in itself, but there’s a small section for Yunho’s bits and pieces in it. The leader of TVXQ can be scatterbrained, but the maknae makes sure he is never without what he needs.

Always.

“Can we have a second keycard for the room next to his?” the manager asks the waiting hotel receptionist.

—

“We’ve got a whole night free. Do you want to go and explore? Some of us are going out to check out the hotel bar.”

“That’s exploring?” Changmin asks incredulously as his friends laugh. He shakes his head as they do. “No thanks. It’s too hot.”

“They have air-conditioning,” comes the exasperated reply.

“I thought you said we were going to sit by the pool?”

The youngest in the group gets an elbow from the oldest member of the trio for his reply. 

“You two go ahead. I’m just going to go cool off in my room.”

“Hey! Did you get your own room? It’s cool isn’t it? You can finally have some peace from Yunho hyung. He’s looking kinda grumpy.”

Changmin smiles tightly, shrugging non-commitedly as the elevator stops.

“This is us. Call if you want to come out.”

Changmin’s finger is heavy on the close button, and he can see that his friends only belatedly realise that they have no idea which room he’s in if the noise they make just as the door shuts is any indication.

He sighs, laptop heavy in his arms as he ruffles his hair, staring at himself in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

There is no time to contemplate his ridiculous haircut that he’s only just starting to get used to, as he reaches his floor.

They are on the Executive Club floor, two floors down from the lavish suites. They have access to the Club Room, and can choose to have their meals there instead of going down to the hotel restaurant. He exits quickly, dragging his suitcase behind him as he finds his room.

—

Yunho vaguely hears his door opening, but he’s feeling too sorry for himself to move. He cannot imagine any of the hotel staff would dare enter without even knocking, and so it can only be SM Town personnel. 

He makes a bet with himself as to who it is.

“You’ve been here all of ten minutes and it already looks like your room back home. How do you live like this?”

Bet won.

“What are you doing here? Go back to your room.” Yunho really meant to sound annoyed, but in his present state, it just comes out as a pitiful whine.

“What room? They stuffed up and I’m staying here.”

“The hell you are. I don’t need to make you sick too.”

“You’re not contagious.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m smart.”

Yunho smushes his face into the pillow, all thoughts of getting some peace and quiet disappearing with the appearance of a certain orange-haired maknae.

“You’re on my side of the bed.”

All the response he gets is a muffled grumble, and the younger man smiles slightly at it. He shrugs off his bag, placing it on an empty seat before proceeding to tidy the room.

Fifteen minutes later and the room is spotless, clothes hung up, and everything is where it should be,

Everything but Yunho that is, who is now happily snoring on the wrong side of the bed.

Changmin shrugs again as he unbuttons his shirt, picking up the room service menu as he heads towards the bathroom.

—

He has just tightened the belt on his robe, the tub still emptying noisily down the drain, when the bathroom door blows open and the half naked figure of TVXQ’s leader stumbles in.

The man barely makes it to the toilet bowl as he starts to retch.

Horrid sounds echoing in the bathroom as the older man dry heaves, nothing in his belly to expel but his body needing, wanting to get something out. The pain of his belly cramping and clenching, as bile finally shoots up his oesophagus, the bitterness coating his tongue as he vomits into the toilet bowl.

Miserable might be an understatement. He’s been trying to keep himself from vomiting all day, and he knows the bubbles helped somewhat while they were on the plane. He’d woken up dizzy, disoriented, and shivering from a fever. The nausea was a given, and at the height of his illness, he has no defence against it.

His body contracts again, cramping as he curls over the toilet bowl, retching bitter fluid into it once again.

As he settles back against the tiled bath, a cool cloth is placed against his mouth, wiping gently. His eyes are shut, but he doesn’t need to open them to know who it is, for it is always the same person.

Always.

He really just wants to sleep. His head is throbbing, and his mouth tastes gross, and he has absolutely zero energy or ability to get himself up off the floor. He has no idea how he’s going to perform at the SM Town concert tomorrow, but he’s going to have to recover somehow, by hook or by crook. 

As his mind is filled with miserable thoughts, there is a quiet knock on the door, and a heavily accented voice calling out.

_”Room service.”_

He feels rather than sees Changmin walking out of the bathroom to answer the door, and he can hear a conversation going on in English. He is way too out of it to be able to concentrate enough to hear process what is being said. It all sounds like a monotonous drone to him, an irritating buzzing sound in the background. His chin drops, and his head lolls listlessly, and he is vaguely aware of it, but he is just too tired to move.

All too soon, he is nudged awake.

“Come on. You need to eat.”

Yunho shakes his head lethargically. “Sleep.”

“Eat first, then sleep. You can’t take any meds on an empty stomach.”

“Really?”

Changmin’s mouth twitches at the plaintive question. “Really, hyung. Come on.” He bends over, rather uncaring about the fact that his robe is parted rather indecently. 

Yunho manages a half smile. “Ok.”

—

Half a bowl of chicken soup, and two pieces of bread later, Yunho grumbles about being moved over to his side of the bed.

“But I like that side.”

“It’s my side,” comes the unequivocal answer.

“But I was here first.”

“You’re older, you’re always going to be here first,” Changmin chooses to misunderstand as he picks out clothes.

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting out clothes for you.”

“Where am I going?”

“To have a shower.”

“I need clothes to have a shower?” comes the confused reply.

Yet again, the maknae’s mouth twitches, but he hides it as he turns, trying to look a little stern because if you give Yunho an inch, he will take it all.

“You need clothes after your shower.”

“I don’t want to shower, I want to sleep,” Yunho replies sulkily.

“I’m not sleeping next to you in your unshowered state. Must I remind you that you vomited. Twice.”

“No one told you to sleep with me.”

“Where would I sleep then?”

“Can’t you bunk with Kyuhyunnie or Minho or something?”

“This is not up for discussion, hyung. Get up now. The faster you shower, the quicker you can go back to sleep.”

“Or I can just sleep now.” The leader gets stubborn when he’s sick.

“I’m not above dumping water over your head.”

“What is it with you and dumping water?” Yunho grumbles as he drags himself into an upright position, groaning loudly the whole way. He’s not really exaggerating the pain. Everything aches, even his extremities. “I don’t think I can even stand, Changmin-ah.”

The younger man huffs irritatedly, but it is mostly for show, as he walks quickly to Yunho’s side, slipping an arm around the man and tugging at him. 

“I’ve got you.”

—

Three stumbles later, and Changmin is resigned. 

He pulls the belt loose from his robe, shrugging it off, hanging it up behind the door as he steps into the blisteringly hot shower with the sick man who is muttering under his breath.

“I can’t even focus my eyes, where the hell is the shower gel? Min! Oh.”

“Turn.”

The leader obeys dutifully, leaning against the opposite wall, forehead against his arm as he feels gentle hands soaping his back.

He almost dozes off, but is stopped short by another quiet demand.

“Turn.”

He does so, too quickly, stumbling for the fourth time, but instead of almost pitching to the ground like earlier, he is caught by strong arms.

“Why are you so fucking clumsy?”

“Why are you such a fishwife?”

“Does that make you a fishmonger then?”

“Static, Min. You’re static. White noise.” But his actions betray his cranky words as Yunho leans against the slightly taller man, nuzzling against his wet throat as he wraps his arms around the slender waist.

Changmin stiffens for a second, before he drops his shoulders, relaxing as he braces himself to bear the weight of the broader man who takes more than the inch he is given.

As always. 

“I can’t clean you like this, hyung.”

“I’m clean enough,” comes the mumbled reply. “My head hurts so much, can’t I have my meds and sleep?”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“First thing I did.”

Changmin sighs, taking a step forward, their bodies pressed flush against each other as he blindly reaches around the other man to try and turn the shower off.

“You feel good.”

“And you feel hot. You still have a fever. You should have had a tepid shower.”

“White noise, Changminnie.”

The shower goes off, and the silence in the bathroom is a little disconcerting as Changmin tries to maneuver the both of them out of the cubicle. 

Coaxing Yunho into a bathrobe proves harder than it should be, the man flatly refusing to let go of his crutch.

“I’m not going anywhere, hyung.”

—

He is trying to read, but it’s really hard with someone constantly tossing and turning on the other side of the bed. It’s a king-size bed but the other occupant seems to think three quarters of the bed is his the way he is rolling around.

Changmin finally drops his magazine in his lap, turning to the fidgeting lump under the blanket.

“I thought you were sleepy?”

“I thought I was sleepy too,” comes the muffled reply. 

“What’s wrong then?”

“I’m on the wrong side of the bed.”

Changmin rolls his eyes as he places the magazine on the bedside table. “This is always my side of the bed.”

“I know, but I slept there briefly today and now I miss it.”

He sighs as he sits up, fluffing the pillow behind his back properly as he grabs the remote and turns the television on. “Come on, then.”

Yunho moves far quicker than a sick man should, and his groan of pain satisfies Changmin that he is being punished for it as he lays his head in his lap. 

“What are we watching?”

“We?” Changmin cocks an eyebrow as he cards his fingers through the older man’s thick hair. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Yunho pulls the covers up around his neck, tilting his head upwards and pouting cutely. “Can’t I spend some time with my favourite maknae?”

“I’m your only maknae.”

There is not a word uttered after that for about twenty minutes, both men appearing to concentrate on the television. 

“Do you remember what happened when we met?”

“When you told me to leave now since I’ll be leaving anyway?” Changmin answers a little distractedly for he had been paying attention to the tv show. 

“You didn’t leave.”

“No, I didn’t.” Changmin answers, still distracted as his fingers massage Yunho’s temples lightly. It takes a few moments, but he finally realises that his fingertips are wet.

He turns to look down, shocked to see the tears in his leader’s eyes. Worry enters his voice immediately, as his eyebrows knit, fingers brushing away the tears, his voice a hushed whisper. “Hyung, what’s wrong? Does something hurt? I’ll call the manager and tell him you really cannot perform tomorrow. If they insist, then I’ll fall sick too.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t contagious?”

“I’m sure I can figure something out.”

“You’d lie for me?”

Changmin coughs pitifully. “It’s not a lie. I do have a bit of a cough.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“Leave when?”

“When _they_ left. Why didn’t you leave?”

Changmin pauses, looking into the dark almond eyes swimming in now unshed tears. How does he answer this when he’s answered it so many times before?

“My answer hasn’t changed, hyung.”

“But why?” 

He sighs, turning the television off before lifting Yunho’s head off his lap. The man’s protests die as Changmin slides down the bed, stretching out next to him.

Yunho’s head finds his spot on Changmin’s shoulder as he curls into the younger man.

“You know why, U-Know Yunho. Now sleep.”

Changmin closes his eyes, exhausted all of a sudden, and his heart hurts when he hears the soft whisper of the sick man next to him.

“You didn’t leave…me.”

—

Yunho wakes first, his mind surprisingly clear considering how sick he’s been. He stretches, feeling amazingly well-rested, as he looks around the dim room. The heavy light blocking curtains are doing a very good job, and he has absolutely no idea if it is night or day, though his body tells him that it’s day.

He lifts his head to glance at the clock, and is relieved to see that it is only six thirty in the morning. 

He turns, bumping immediately into a body.

He turns more carefully, seeing Changmin sound asleep and facing him, body curled up like a baby koala.

So strange for someone so tall to sleep thus, but he’s always been like that. 

Yunho has no idea how long he stares for, content to watch the perfect features of the handsome young man relaxed in sleep. He knows they have to get up soon, but he is loathe to look away. He almost never gets this chance and he is going to take it when he can.

“Your staring woke me up.”

Yunho’s mouth quirks as Changmin’s voice is perfectly clear, not a hint of sleep within it, though his eyes remain shut.

“Are you sure?” His voice is lightly teasing, lifting a hand to trace the curve of the younger man’s cheekbone with his finger.

Changmin makes faces, trying to dislodge the finger. It says a lot that he doesn’t actually move away, simply twitching and wrinkling his nose and face trying to get the finger away. “You’re so irritating, hyung. I’m guessing you’re feeling better?”

“Much better, thanks to you. You’re a much better nurse than wife.”

“Isn’t a wife a nurse as well? It’s not like I had a choice.” Changmin grumbles, finally reaching up to pull Yunho’s annoying finger away from his cheek.

“You always have a choice, Changdola.”

Changmin finally opens his eyes to stare into his leader’s unfathomable dark almond eyes. “And my choice is always the same.”

“Always?”

“Always.”


End file.
